


And then it passes

by dr_zook



Category: Norse Mythology
Genre: F/M, Lucifer - Freeform, Parents & Children, Punishment, Serpent, Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigyn takes care of Loki and reflects upon her fears before they had married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And then it passes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theskywasblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Isolation and the Art of Devastation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/298149) by [dr_zook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook). 



After nine times nine days his insults cease to sting. At least that's what she begins to tell herself.

"Why don't you just go back to where you came from? Tell your father he can keep the ridiculously high pile of useless gifts I had heaped in front of his rotten gates." The shackled creature spits out and the slime hit the toes of her left foot.

.:.

They had told her the trickster was no good choice. Told her she would regret this man soon enough. Look at his children, they had said. Look what he's capable to spawn. Don't you have mercy with your womb?

Then she went to the outskirts of the world where the great serpentine ocean grinds up the rocks in unhurried and languid destruction. And she enjoyed finest sand of various colours beneath her bare soles. Enjoyed the tender dark sprays of salt against her cheeks.

The first time the wolf met her he sniffled at her hem, at her crotch and wrists. Opened his red and ivory muzzle and sat on his heels. Watched her closely and accepted the tentative hand that caressed his ears. Sigyn would swear any oath that he grinned when he eventually flopped down at her feet. He stayed there until the whiff of a hare tickled his nose and drove him over the plains.

She thought she wouldn't be brave enough to endure the daughter. Yet she went. But you don't go there for it's no living creature's business, that's what the waterfall virgin told her. She didn't bar the way, she just said this.

So Sigyn turned around, gathered the layers of cloth closer around her body, and went back home. Waited for her suitor to precariously open her lenient heart and warm thighs for him. And when Loki arrived he shed her robes, and stroked her flanks and ribs. His confident smile made something inside her chest flare and her caressed breasts bore witness to Loki's clandestine prevalence amongst the budoirs of the ásynjur.

Thus when she writhed on the furs and blankets, and reached out to catch a cluster of twirling stars she felt victorious and blissful. Loki put his seed deep inside her, where it sprouted and flourished. Flourished so very well that when their son was bewitched to dismember his own brother it took some time. The gutting subsequent to the murder went faster, because that was something the others did on a regular basis.

She couldn't remember when or why at all she later stopped screaming. But here she sits, holding a bowl, and guarding both her husband and the snake above his face. She couldn't remove the angry venom spitter; tried it once, but Skaði had appeared again and slapped her hard across the brow. Said, "Try it again and I'll slay you, too."

Sigyn hadn't answered, just stepped back and looked down. Never talked to anybody at all. She knew they pitied her. Said, "We told her so. We did warn her." Yet the true monsters weren't from her bosom, they weren't from Loki's loins. Their children have been beautiful, like all children are.

At first, Loki had wailed and laughed. Later came the spiteful insults against the others. Then the insults against herself. In between he cried and sulked, stared and babbled. There was never an apology, yet their sympathy was wordless. Sigyn wasn't sure if she imagined a sentiment once or twice.

But there was definitely the serpent's sizzle in her head. Asking her, "What is victory without any victims, Frouwe?"

**Author's Note:**

> 'ásynjur' = female goddesses
> 
> 'Frouwe' = form of address for a noble, married woman
> 
> The motif of 'victory' refers to possible translations of Sigyn's name: 'victorious girlfriend', 'bringer of victory'
> 
> The title is borrowed from the band [CRYPTOPSY](http://www.myspace.com/cryptopsy).


End file.
